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I
was panting, gasping for breath as I squirmed on the bed, the flashes
of light emanating through the window from the passing countryside
having something of a hypnotic effect on me. I writhed and moaned,
giving up on thoughts of having his cock inside of me for the moment,
eager to cum, once again. Suddenly, he stood up. Stunned and
confused, I looked up. He had his pants off in a heartbeat but it was
too dark to see in that moment, then he was on me, his hard body
pressed to mine. He kissed me, letting me taste my own sweet juices
from his lips and tongue, my cunt aching in overdrive. As I squirmed
beneath him, he moved, the thick rounded head of his steel-hard cock
bumping against my dripping, engorged void. I gyrated my hips as much
as his body would allow, struggling to impale myself on his hardness,
to no avail. He pulled back, chuckling.

"Not
yet," he said, only getting to the letter "y" of yet
before reversing and plunging his cock, deep inside. He caught me
completely off-guard, robbing me of my breath and making my eyes go
wide in surprise. He forced several incredibly thick inches inside of
me, spreading me like I had never been spread before. I don't even
know how much he had in there but it was enough for him to pull back,
his bumpy veins teasing my clit and G, driving me insane. I came.

My
entire body seized for just a moment. Not a breath, not a heartbeat.
All I could do was grind. Then, just as suddenly, blinding pleasure
tore through my being, lighting me up and overwhelming me. I grabbed
tightly on his bulging biceps as he plunged into me, pleasure
coursing through every vein and nerve ending. Heated, gasping,
grunting, and grinding, I took all I could get, vaguely aware of his
cock working deeper, even as he fucked me faster.

I
wrapped my legs around his midsection, pulling him deeper into me,
still. I ground my body against him, crushing my breasts against his
hard musculature. I pulled on his neck until he got the message,
leaning down to kiss me again, plunging ever deeper into me. Just
how big is this thing? I
wondered.

I
bit gently on his lower lip, letting go when he returned to kiss me
once more. Full-body contact was what I craved – as much of his
flesh touching mine as we could muster. I didn't just want him in me,
I wanted him to be one with me.

He
filled me and stretched me. I knew he was big – massive, even –
but I was surprised at how readily my body adjusted to his length and
girth. His pounding was rhythmical and precise, like a well-oiled
fuck machine. But it wasn't just that, it was the little tiny moves.
A little to the left here, a little to the right. Up, down... a twist
of the hips. It was as magical as it was methodical. "Oh,"
I gasped. "Fuck me..." I didn't know if he was close, but I
sure as hell was.

The
compartment was suddenly filled with light. It was not from outside
the train but the corridor! "Babe, are you in here?" came
the voice.

MIKE!
MY HUSBAND!

What...
I
thought,
have I done...?

Menage
on the Orient Express

Anita Blackmann

Chapter 1

Okay, I have to start off by being
totally honest about it. It wasn't the real Orient Express. That
train stopped running long ago. Heck, it wasn't even in Europe but it
was still pretty swanky and ridiculously expensive. Too expensive for
my husband and I, as a matter of fact. It all came down to dumb luck.

My
Pandora app wasn't working for some reason so I turned on the radio,
just as they were telling people to call in to win tickets to the
party of a lifetime, a costumed event on the storied Orient Express.
Realizing I had nothing to lose but a few seconds of my time, I
dialed.

And
won! Just like that!

The
train was to depart from LA's Union Station at 8 PM on Friday night
and arrive in Seattle at 8 o'clock, Sunday morning. In between, it
was one great 20s-themed party. Mike, my husband, was every bit as
excited as I was. As a matter of fact, it coincided with our fifth
anniversary and even though we originally wanted to go to Hawaii, we
were waaaaay behind in our savings for it. "Now," he said,
"we can spend a little of it on our costumes for the weekend and
put the rest to our trip next year!"

"What
if we have a kid?" I countered. I had recently gone off the pill
and Hawaii was to be our last hurrah – at least for a while –
before starting a family. Mike shrugged.

"It
wasn't like we had the money for the islands, anyway." He was
right about that. At least, we decided, we were having this fabulous
weekend.

I
will have to say, one of the advantages of living close to LA is the
wide range of thrift shops available, along with places that sell
wardrobe from movies and television. We made an afternoon of it and
came away with enough to cover the two nights and a day that we would
be on the train. Classic. Elegant. Roaring 20's style!

We
arrived early and boarded. We had our own sleeping car! We knew we
were going to have plenty of time so we decided to dress on the
train, promising not to turn around and look at each other until we
were through, to enhance the whole experience.

I
had found this shimmering red flapper dress for the first night's
party. I complimented it with a pair of lacy black opera gloves and a
matching black feathered boa, adding a dash of white to the mix with
my grandmother's pearls. I pinned my hair short and tight, holding it
in place with a headband with a lace and costume jewelry piece that
matched with my necklace. I went a little heavy on the makeup, with
more around the eyes and a dark red lipstick, just to give me a touch
of a femme fatale look. The top didn't allow for a bra and my
panties, stockings, and heels may have been modern but on such a
crowded train, I didn't think anyone would see them, so I didn't give
them much thought as to how they looked.

Men
have it a lot easier when getting ready than we do. Mike kept asking
me if I was done yet, over and over, for the last few minutes.
Finally, I said I was and on the count of three, we turned around. I
have to say, my husband sure cleaned up nicely. He had a great Ramon
Novaro vibe going on, despite normally being the whitest white guy
going. "Dashing," I said.

"And
you, my dear," he said in a well-modulated, leading man tone,
"look absolutely fetching." An antiquated term, to be sure.
Well played,
I thought. He offered me his arm, something he hadn't done since our
wedding reception, I think. "Shall we adjourn to the dining car
for coffee or tea or whatever it is they drank before the party
starts?"

I
giggled. "Tea sounds about right, right now," I said.

I
first saw him in the dining car as we drank our tea.
Mike and I were talking and the train lurched forward, briefly
causing me to look past my husband, toward the far end of the tables.
He was sitting down but I could tell in that instant that he was a
big man. Not just tall but meaty – perhaps, even buff. Handsome,
too, with a killer smile. His skin was smooth and a rich, chocolatey
brown. He could have been just about any age from 20 to nearly 60 –
I've heard from African American friends that "black don't
crack" but his eyes told me more than his complexion ever could.
There was intelligence there. There was confidence there. Our eyes
only locked for a moment but the feeling was electric. I gasped.
Maybe Mike would think it was because of the lurch of the train....
Oh, my goodness... MIKE!
Trying to clear my brain of its brief fogginess, I turned back to my
husband. He was looking at me like he expected an answer.

"So,"
he said, "what do you think?" Oh,
holy crap! He is expecting an answer.
Only thing was, I had zoned out on the question. I was dumbfounded,
shaking my head, ever so slightly. Man,
sexual chocolate did a number on me.